Newburgh Heights, Virginia
Maggie turned the corner into her cul-de-sac and saw lights blazing at the end. For a second, her heart skipped a few beats. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d come home to find her house on fire. Tonight, thankfully, it was simply electricity. Her brother, Patrick had decorated the front of the house and the front yard with Christmas lights.
She checked her watch. He had texted her about thirty minutes ago, saying he was picking up pizza. It was one of the few nights they were both home for dinner. He hadn’t mentioned the decorations. Just that he had a surprise.
Another ping came over her phone as she pulled into the garage.
Beer’s already in the drift.
She smiled. Despite the cold, both of them still enjoyed sitting out on the back patio watching the dogs play in the snow. After she’d gotten back from the Nebraska blizzard, she’d added an outdoor propane heater to ward off the chill. However, Patrick, having grown up in the cold, snowy Midwest, utilized the refrigerator temps and started shoving bottles of beer into a snowdrift that ran alongside the retaining wall. It made a nifty ice bucket.
She unlocked all the security locks and paused the alarm system as she entered the house. As soon as she walked into the entrance, she could smell the scent of fresh pine and cinnamon. Her boys greeted her. Harvey looked like he had been asleep. Jake could hardly stand waiting for her to go through her lockup ritual. His entire back end wagged, his long tail a battering ram against the wall. She bent down for a lick-kiss on her cheeks.
“Looks like you guys had some excitement today.”
From the entrance, she could see the fresh-cut Christmas tree in the living room. It almost reached the nine-foot ceiling. As she made her way through the kitchen to the back door, she saw Patrick’s note on the counter.
We’re decorating that tree tomorrow.
No excuses.
His enthusiasm made her smile.
She rarely bothered getting a tree and had never decorated the outside of the house. Both of them worked such crazy hours, it seemed like a waste of time. But again, Patrick had grown up with tinsel and baubles and lights attached to every eave of the house.
Their childhoods had been so different. Biologically, they shared a father who Patrick had never met and who Maggie could never forget. He died when Maggie was twelve; a firefighter running into a burning house and not making it back out. That his son wanted to do the same thing did not sit well with her.
They had only found out about each other recently, and there were too many missed years to make up. Maggie had bought this two-story brick Tudor on a wooded acre in a quiet, private neighborhood. It was her sanctuary. She had been able to buy it with money her father had left for her in a trust. It made sense that she shared it with Patrick. And although he refused co-ownership, he accepted her offer to be roommates.
She still felt a pang of guilt for leaving him during Christmas. Even if he did have to work, usually he’d come home to the dogs. Maggie was taking both of them with her this time. She couldn’t imagine spending the holiday without them. They were her one constant in her life. She already spent too much time away from them on assignments that took her across the country.
Patrick assured her it was okay. He’d accepted an invitation from a couple of co-workers. And they had agreed they’d celebrate New Year’s Eve together, enjoy a feast, exchange gifts, and binge watch college football bowl games.
She checked out the window, eyes darting along the backyard fence line. The landscape lights added ambience but also lit the dark corners enough to see any intruders: wildlife or human. Satisfied, she opened the door and let Harvey and Jake bound out into the snow. She grabbed a coat with a hood from the coatrack in the corner and followed the dogs out.
Fat, wet flakes glistened, falling against the yellow lights. Layers of white weighted down the branches of the huge pine trees that stood like sentries guarding the yards’ borders. She couldn’t see her neighbors on either side, and the back of the property overlooked a natural preserve with a creek running parallel.
They had arranged two patio chairs under the metal awning which protected them from the snow. Maggie had only a dusting to brush off. And close at hand was the drift Patrick had purposely left when he cleared the patio. Purposely left for them to insert their longneck bottled beer. Only the caps peeked out.
Patrick had shoveled paths for the dogs, but they plowed through the snowdrifts as if they didn’t notice. She sat back and watched them. Jake performed hotdog leaps to bite at the snowflakes. Harvey snuffled his nose in and out of drifts tracking some backyard creature.
It was so quiet she could hear Harvey’s snorts. So quiet she could hear the snow falling.
This place had become her sanctuary. Her retreat from the evils of the world that she dealt with on a regular basis. This was where she could breathe...and think...and relax.
“The pizza has arrived!” Patrick announced as he came out the back door. He brought out a tray with plates already filled: slices of gooey pizza and piles of salad.
She helped him set up everything on a small table between them. He slid two beers out of the snowdrift and popped the tops.
“The decorations out front are amazing,” she told him, and he grinned back.
They shared their adventures for the week. She told him about the killer stalking homeless victims. Patrick told her about a tragic house fire that had left a family with nothing. But he and another firefighter had managed to find and rescue the family’s cat and golden retriever.
“The cat was freaked out, and the dog wouldn’t leave the cat,” he told her. “Fortunately, it’s pretty difficult to scratch through our jackets and gloves. And face shields.”
Maggie had barely taken a bite of pizza when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She had to unzip her coat to pull it out. She didn’t recognize the number.
“Sorry, I have to get this.”
He waved “no problem” while devouring half a slice.
“This is Maggie O’Dell.”
“He’s on the prowl again.”
“Who is this?”
“Your snitch,” came a whisper.
“Nessie?”
“I trailed him.” She was still trying to whisper, but her excitement made it a stuttered attempt. “All the way from the YMCA. He probably changes his clothes there. Tries to make himself look like one of us.”
“Nessie, listen. You shouldn’t be following anyone. It’s dangerous.”
“Oh, I know how to blend in.”
Maggie tried to think of what she could say to the woman to stop her. She should have never encouraged her. This was crazy. Maybe Nessie was, too. Racine tried to warn her about the homeless. That they lie. And some don’t recognize the lies as untruths. Now the woman was out on the streets of D.C., following a man from the YMCA.
“Nessie, I know you’re trying to help, but what makes you think this man is a killer?”
“Well, he sure as hell doesn’t look like a carpenter in that long black coat.”
“A carpenter?”
“Danny was hit on the head. I heard Carlo was, too. I saw this guy come out of the YMCA looking all shabby.”
“Nessie—”
“Didn’t think anybody was watching him. Saw him stuff a hammer into his pocket.”
“Wait a minute. A hammer? Are you sure?”
“Nothing wrong with my eyesight. He walks funny, too. Like he’s not comfortable in those big, long shoes.”
“Where are you? Right now.”
“You remember the coffee shop? God, that pastry just melts in your mouth. It’s like biting into a cloud.”
“Is that where you are?”
“That’s where I’m calling from. They remembered me and you from the other day. They’re letting me use their phone in the back room. It smells like baked goods even back here.”
“Nessie, listen.”
“Don’t worry. They don’t know what I’m doing. Hmm...there’s a window that looks out over the alley.”
“The man you were trailing. Where is he now?”
“Up the street a bit. Not far from where he took out Danny.”
“Look, Nessie, stay at the coffee shop. Order coffee and a donut. Tell them I’m on my way, and I’ll pay for it. Okay? Just stay put.”
“But he probably won’t stay put.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt. Just stay in the shop.”
“Pfft...I handled Russian oligarchs. This guy doesn’t scare me.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at the coffee shop. Don’t leave.”
“Whoa, speak of the devil. There he is! Gotta go. Looks like he’s headed up through the alley.”
“Nessie don’t leave. Nessie?”
Maggie stared at the phone’s screen.
“What’s going on?” Patrick asked.
“I think I made a mistake. A very big mistake.”